The Man in the Hotel
by dreamsjacque
Summary: Anastasia Steele is a lifestyle journalist who is assigned to cover a social event. Along the way, she stumbles upon Merkley Hotel. She meets Christian Grey who claims that they are lovers. But there are mysteries happening in the hotel. Ana is about to discover a past that will change her life forever.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello. Jacque here. This is the first chapter of my first story. Hope you enjoy.**

 **The Man in the Hotel**

 **Chapter 1**

My mother always told me that my eyes looked like they belonged to the 40's. It is in the way the blueness sparks the Old Hollywood soul. They look like an actress' glimmering eyes when the huge cameras flashed on the red carpet of the movie premiere.

And no, I don't believe her.

"You have gorgeous eyes, Ana. The client won't stop talking about it," Elizabeth, the marketing manager of The Daily Scroll informed me.

"That's pretty weird," I told her. Clients don't usually comment about physical features.

I am a lifestyle journalist of the state's daily paper. Living in New Jersey, I am very lucky to have this job. Unlike other journalists, I cover events like concerts, fashion shows, business openings, and celebrity tours. I'm the only one in the company. I am affiliated with the marketing team because they are the ones who get advertisers for the newspaper. When a client places an ad with us, I automatically write for their events.

Am I happy financially? No.

But am I happy with the experience? Yes. Absolutely.

Elizabeth continues, "Paul is pretty weird. I think he has a huge crush on you. He won't stop texting me about your blue eyes. Cupid hit him hard."

"Ew," I said without thinking. Paul is not ugly, but he has a wife. I am automatically disgusted with men who flirt with women other than their wives.

My boss agrees with me, "Right, it's totally disgusting. Anyway, let's forget about Paul. You have another assignment for next week. You are going to cover a party hosted by Elise Dawes."

Yes, I cover private parties of the elite.

"Elise Dawes is a client, okay? She is the head of Festive T-Shirts and Souvenirs. She has been an advertiser for eight long years. She is going to host a dinner party next week and I want you to go to her home tonight so you could get the details. I don't want you gathering data while partying."

"Noted, Elizabeth," I smiled. I can't help but feel excited about coming to this party.

"I will inform Elise that you are coming there tonight."

I took note of the address she gave me and I am beyond ready for this coverage.

-000-000-000-

I drive my old Mini Cooper to drive to Elise's home. While driving, my phone rings and it's a text message from Mom. It said, "Ana, I just discovered that your late great grandfather likes to play the piano."

My mother is not thrilled about my job. She said that writers don't get paid much. Yes, it's true. But I'd like to argue that not all writers get the opportunity to be published. Besides, I've always been the kind of girl who likes all things leisure. My job is like roaming around everywhere and I get paid for it. Okay, I get low pay for it.

You can say that me and my mother don't have the perfect relationship. We don't get massage or pedicures together. We don't watch a TV show together. We're the exact opposites.

My mom, Sarah loves genealogy. She loves to research about our ancestors. That's why I don't like talking to her. She talks about this late grand aunt who survived the Titanic, a cousin of a grandfather who used to work in a circus, or a great grandmother who did a rally to fight for the right of crocheting.

I get bored to death when my Mom talks about them. I mean, why do I care? I am not interested with people I don't know.

Another thing my mother and I disagree on is my choice of men. At the age of 23, I have had boyfriends but they don't last for a year. The problem is not with me. It's with them. They fall in love with someone else or they will move to another continent. It's quite bizarre and painful but I have no choice but to deal with them.

Jose Rodriguez was another story. We broke up two weeks ago. My mom doesn't know yet. "He's gay," Mom warned me when she met him. That ended up in a fight. I even called her a "Disney Villain" for trying to stop my romance with my "One True Love".

I remember saying, "Stop being a Disney villain!"

Mom replied, "A what?"

It wasn't a great argument.

As it turned out, my "One True Love" wanted a Prince too. He left me for him and it sucked. I sang Celine Dion songs the whole night when it happened. I also used 10 boxes of tissue. No exaggeration.

We dated for 11 months and 29 days. A few more hours to go and I would've told my Mom, "See? My relationships can last a year."

Still, the last laugh was on her.

-000-000-000-

For some reason, I was having troubles driving to Elise's address. It shouldn't be this difficult, right? For goodness' sake, she owns the company that manufactures tourist shirts all over USA. Her home shouldn't be hard to find.

I found myself circling the area. I am getting lost. I had been driving for four hours but I was headed nowhere. It was seriously getting on my nerves. My poor Mini Cooper was exhausted. I didn't believe in urban legends but if you were to ask me, the roads are changing and that's why I was getting lost.

My hands held on to the steering wheel as I looked outside to see where I am. There's nothing but an empty road surrounded by tall trees. The sun already disappeared and it's really dark. If it weren't for my headlights, I wouldn't see anything at all.

Having no choice, I decided to just follow where the road takes me. Maybe Elise was so rich that she needed to seclude herself from society. We're so far from the city now and I guess I shouldn't be surprised.

But then my car stopped moving. I pulled the lever and pushed the engine again and again. Still, nothing. Whatever I was doing, it's not right. My car let me down in the middle of nowhere.

"Are you kidding me?" I screamed on top of my lungs. I couldn't accept the fact that the engine stopped. No, this couldn't be happening. I rested my forehead on the stirring wheel and when I looked to my right, I was beyond confused.

What in the world?

I got out of my car and stood in front of what I saw. I couldn't help but be amazed. My car broke down, yeah, but in front of a freaking hotel! That's how lucky I was!

The hotel was huge. It reminded me of the White House. It had big long vertical windows. I couldn't point out its exact color because it's night time. It's beautifully surrounded by yellow lampposts. In the middle of its façade was a huge clock. It said seven o'clock. Wow! Seven? I've been driving for five hours?

It didn't make sense.

Underneath the moonlight, the hotel was intimidating. It seemed elegant and classy and the terrace was huge. The garden was lovely, yellow, blue, and red roses perfectly complimented by the trees around. There was a veranda in the middle and there's a funny looking guy puffing a smoke. Whoa! That's a thick cigarette.

The hotel looked extravagant. I expected it to be pricey but would I sleep inside my car when it broke down in front of a hotel? No.

I walked towards inside and I could read the name now. It's placed on top of the door, no light to make it clear in the dark. With my proximity, I could read it: Merkley's.

Breathing out, I declared, "Merkley's, here I come."


	2. Chapter 2

The Man in the Hotel

Chapter 2

I was beyond astounded when I went inside the hotel.

"Good evening, Madame," the doorman told me. I smiled at him. I wasn't really used to such chivalry or courtesy. For that, I give this hotel an A plus.

I reached the middle of the lobby and I was gazing up the ceiling where there's a painting of angels with harps and they made a great compliment to the glowing golden chandelier hanging in the middle. I counted and there were four floors including the one I was standing on. The grand staircase was placed in the middle and I could visibly see a portrait of a man and his wife.

Looking to where I stood, I saw that the walls were made of granite. They were shining. The arches of the hotel are a total of nine. There were sofa sets that were colored pale green with subtle floral designs. Plants were everywhere and some smelled fragrant. I gazed to the right and saw that there were two men smoking in pipes, with brandies at hand. They were conversing. On the chair right next to them was a man in an oversized coat reading the newspaper.

Weird.

From the grand staircase, women wearing attractive vintage hats went down and I found them super fashionable. They wore gloves and their bags would be very expensive once auctioned. They wore burgundy lipstick and I couldn't help but think that they could be featured in the cover of Vogue.

I approached them, "Excuse me, Ma'am. Can you help me out here? I am stranded. My car broke down and—"

They gazed at me from head to toe and they rolled their eyes.

"You have poor taste in fashion," the blonde one said before exiting my sight. I stared incredulously at them. They talked loudly. It was as if they wanted me to hear what they were saying.

"Can you believe what she's wearing? It's rather odd, don't you think?"

The woman laughed haughtily and said, "Does she want to start a trend? If she's doing so, she's doing an awful job at it."

I was dumfounded. Why are they acting so mean? Don't they know that my style icon is Kate Middleton? How can they insult the style of the Duchess of Cambridge? I wanted to chase after them and educate them about how fashion works. For heaven's sake, I am a lifestyle journalist and I write fashion articles.

"Good evening, Madame. How can I help you?"

I was startled. I looked to my left and a middle-aged man stood beside me with a very wide smile on his face. I could tell that he's a nice man. He wore a white polo shirt with a red bow tie tucked between its collars.

"Oh great, someone is willing to help me!"

"Jason Taylor, Ma'am. At your service. I am the frontier of Merkley's."

"Nice to meet you, Jason."

"You can call me Taylor."

"Okay, Taylor, uhm . . . my car broke down and I am fortunate enough that it broke down in front of your hotel. Can you help me out? I have somewhere to be and I am pretty sure that I couldn't afford this luxurious hotel."

He grimaced, "I am afraid that our car repair service will resume its operation tomorrow. You can leave Merkley's tomorrow night."

"Are you kidding me?!" My bones wanted to come out of my skin. This shouldn't be happening. I was supposed to be at Elise's home! Elizabeth's going to freak out once she knows about this. All the blame will go to my poor baby Mini-Cooper.

I took my iPhone out and dialed Elizabeth's number and for goodness' sake, no signal can be reached. I've been driving for hours and my phone couldn't pick up any signal. What the heck is wrong with this place?

"That's a fancy device you have. May I know what that is?" Taylor asked with voice ever so courteous and I couldn't believe he just asked me that. Seriously? Who doesn't own a phone nowadays? I mean, you cannot live without your phone especially during this digital age.

"It's a phone," I answered dumbly.

"Phone? Wow! That's . . . weird. I am confused. But anyway, let's get back to business. I didn't get your name, Ma'am."

"I am Anastasia Steele and I cannot afford a room here."

"Good riddance! Ma'am, you are Anastasia Steele? You have a room reservation!"

What is the world?!

"I have a what?" This couldn't be possible. I haven't paid my rent for two months and I'm going to get a room for a lux hotel? This seemed to be unreal.

"Follow me," he said and I did so. We stopped in the counter and there he took out a record book and scanned through it. When he spotted my name, he showed it to me. I was beyond shocked. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. It was my name and the reservation was made last week.

"You arrived on time," he exclaimed.

"Taylor, I'm so sorry if this seems weird to you but I don't recall having reservations here. I didn't even plan to be here. Plus, I didn't even know that Merkley's Hotel exists in New Jersey. Why would I make a reservation?"

"Records don't like, Madame Steele."

"I am not a Madame," I said.

He just smiled at me and said, "You are tired. Let me give you a tour of a hotel." Before I could even reply, he looked to his right and spoke to the teenage boy, "Kevin, take over the counter. I am going to give our valued guest a tour of the hotel."

Kevin agreed, and I had no choice but to follow Taylor.

Once we started walking, I spotted those two mean girls again and they headed up the staircase.

I asked Taylor, "Is something wrong with my outfit?"

"It's rather . . . odd."

"Odd?" I mean, why would someone think that a flowy dress made of lace is odd?

"I've never seen a dress like that before."

What?

-000—000—000—

Merkley was a hundred times more elegant as it was on the outside. Taylor was a bright tour guide. He would tell the history and reason why that certain amenity was built.

He toured me to the hotel's library and there were surprisingly many people who read books. Most of them were men and some even used magnifying glasses.

After the library, we went to an empty room full of wooden chairs and Taylor explained that people watch films here. There was a grim look at his face when he said, "Films have been . . . _scarce_. Viewers often yawn. I mean, film was supposed to be fun. Ever mise-en-scène was invented, films just got better. You watched The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari?"

"No, I haven't." I didn't even know what that is.

"Shame," Taylor said.

I decided not to press it further. We continued our tour and he took me to different parts of the hotel. There was a dining place where the chefs prepare the food before you, a butterfly garden where couples dated, and a playground for the children.

The next stop was a giant wooden door. Taylor opened it to reveal a spacious ballroom. There were six chandeliers above, and in my estimation, a thousand people can fit inside. The opera singer was rehearsing onstage. I've been to thousands of fancy social events but this one impressed me most.

"There's a special ball tomorrow night and you're one of the VIP's."

This couldn't get any weirder.

So I assumed, "Is the ball hosted by Elise Dawes?"

"Unfortunately, we don't know any Elise Dawes. The ball is hosted by Mr. Christian Grey."

I don't know who that is but I'm sure he's pretty rich.

"Shall I take you to your room?" He asked in a manner of a gentleman.

When I thought of it, there's no near gasoline station and nobody can help me out until tomorrow. I sighed and realized that I had no choice but to spend the night in this odd hotel.

"Yeah, take me to my room please."

He led me to Room 233 and I was surprised to know that it was the most expensive. I looked inside and there's a king-sized bed with a furnace. Surprisingly, there was no TV. Damn! I couldn't watch America's Next Top Model. Something about the room spoke of a different era. The clock was antique and the tables too. The boudoir reminded me of Rose's in Titanic, that scene where her fiancé gave her the heart of the ocean.

"Thanks for your kindness, Taylor. I'm just gonna sleep and let's fix my car tomorrow, alright?"

"Duly noted. Have good rest, Madame Steele."

I just nodded despite how uncomfortable it felt like when he addressed me. I closed the door and something caught my eye when I did it.

On the back of the door were letters carved that gave me chills.

It was my name on the back of Room 223's door.

ANASTASIA STEELE in capital letters.


End file.
